A Normal Life
by BetaManga
Summary: Watari believes L has a mental disorder, and that belief results in L going to a clinic to 'help' him. With all of his quirks, and all of his acquaintances' quirks, can he possibly lead a normal life? PAIRINGS NOT DECIDED
1. Admission

**Warnings: OOC-ness,(It _is _an AU, and the characters _are _mentally ill) possible yaoi, and swearing in later chapters**

**Full Summary: L Lawliet had always been a little off. Though, when he is forced into a mental hospital he is forced to come to terms with his 'special' needs.**

**Light Yagami has something wrong with him, everyone tells him that. He can't really believe that, after all he is god, he is perfect, and he doesn't need anyone else anyway.**

**Mello has been in the asylum for years, and he is good enough to be let out. But, he believed, something horrible would happen if he doesn't stay there for exactly 14 years.**

**Matt loves himself. Everybody else must too, they just had to! Matt doesn't care about what they think other then that, and you know what? He doesn't even give a damn that he just broke that guy's wrist on the way.  
**

* * *

Normally, and he had a reason for this too, L Lawliet did not show any emotion. He barely even spoke to his caretaker. But when his sleek, black limousine pulled into a gigantic mansion's driveway, his mouth dropped a little. And _that_ was a rare occurrence in itself for the young man.

Lawliet debated whether or not to bother talking. Finally, he decided opened his mouth, "Watari, why are we here?" The monotone sentence hung in the air for a while. While the silence elongated, L pondered things like,_ Why are we not at the bakery? and Why isn't Watari answering me?  
_

At breakfast time he had left to replenish his supply of cakes, but last time he checked the bakery was not a huge house surrounded by ten-feet-tall fences. Or was it? _No_, his mind told him, _you have never been to a bakery like that, you probably never will, and you've just entered the grounds of an unknown person's mansion._

L had indeed been driven into the grounds of a mysterious building, and said building was currently leering over his limo. And for some reason, his limousine was slowing down. _Why are we stopping? What are we doing here?_ He was getting inwardly hysterical, or at least as hysterical as he could be.

"Watari, do not make me repeat myself."

"Ahh, L, I had forgotten about you, and you should know not threaten people so often, it hurts feelings."

Lawliet stared, his panda eyes practically never blinking. "I would hope you did not forget of my existence, and I do not care about other people's feelings. Now tell me what we are doing at this establishment."

"Now, now. _That_ is exactly why we are here. I am sorry, L."

"What?!" It all made sense now. And with his level of intelligence, he should have foreseen this turn of events.

Even as he was about to be knocked unconscious by several men in white suits (Where did they come from?), L didn't show any signs of emotion. When a needle was pushed through his arm placing bubbly, purple liquid that seared through his veins like liquid metal, he did not show any signs of acknowledgement, and when he was forcefully put in a state of rest he had not been in for many months, he did not let any emotion flicker across his face.

Instead, right before he had lost all the senses he had, he put out the last word he would say to Watari in a long time. "Bye"

**

* * *

From Way Back When. (AKA L'S PAST)**  
**

* * *

**

L Lawliet had been working on one of his many cases when it had begun. Watari had to begun to mess everything up. Looking back at it now, L would have had a more enjoyable (That's debatable) experience in life if he had fired the old man back then.

_"L-kun, I worry about your health. You have been in that position eating cake for many days. Have you even gone to the bathroom?"_

_"… using Japanese suffixes does not effect me in any way."_

_"Why do you insist on not showing emotion, even to the closest thing to a friend you have?!"_

_"… maybe I don't want to"_

_"Lawliet, I believe you may be-" here Watari, or Wammy, paused to find the right word,"-special."_

_"… Right now I am considering firing you as I take in your stupidity. Calling me 'special' means you believe me to have a mental illness."_

_"But, indeed I do. You have all of the symptoms: no desires to have close relationships, always choosing solitary activities, no interest in,-" ahem,"-sexual activities. You are cold and distant, you are indifferent to my praise or criticism, and you never take pleasure in what you do!"_

_"… I can assure you, Watari, I do not have anything wrong with me. Those aren't 'symptoms', they are just quirks. They are 'normal' to me. Do you get it?"  
_

_"I do."_

_"Good, now go get me some cake."_

Though, if L had listened while Watari had walked away, he would have heard muttered plans of mutiny.


	2. Meeting

**DISCLAIMER-I DO NOT, NOR WILL I EVER, OWN DEATH NOTE. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THE PLOT AND STORYLINE. D: DAMN!  
**

* * *

L was still half asleep when he felt the hand. He could feel someone poking him, trying to wake him. "Poke, poke, poke, poke," he or she whispered as they rammed their finger into his ribs. The person, whoever it was, poked him ten more times exactly, then stopped. That seemed to be the signal to start a conversation right next to him. Having nothing to do but this, he relaxed his tense muscles and listened. He could hear little bits of it. "… Another one… I see,… you're such a sheep!" Who was a sheep? L tried to open his eyes but his eyelids seemed heavier now then how they usually felt after months of no sleep. (And only he would know how that felt.) "What… has?" a mysterious voice asked his or her companion asked. The voices didn't sound familiar, so… ah that's it.

The earlier episode with Watari sprung back into L's mind. Because of where he would most likely be dumped, a clinic or asylum, that would mean whoever was talking, and whoever had poked him, was from this 'asylum' or 'clinic'. L forced himself to open his eyes so he could take a look at his companions. His eyesight was blurry; all he could make out were some basic human shapes. Were there three of them? Or were it four? And was it just him, or was that kid an albino? All of this thinking was making him tired, again. All he wanted… to… do… was… _sleep,..._

* * *

This time when L woke up it was because of a certain someone's violence. A sharp kick to the ribs and he was up like a flash. He blinked like an owl at his perpetrator, a blonde haired kid no older then fifteen, a full five years younger then his age.

Behind this violent boy were three more young men, around age fifteen. One was an albino (Ha! He was right!), one was a redhead, and the last was a boy with auburn hair. How poetic to use such a beautiful word for someone's hair. It was a waste, and a pity, though.

L would have laughed about that if a), he had emotions, and b), he hadn't been kicked in the ribs another thirteen times. "May I ask, why you have just mutilated my body?" he asked, in his usual monotone voice. For once, nobody looked surprised by his lack of emotion. He could get used to living here, well, if this blonde kid went off and died. Then the albino spoke up, "I believe Mello kicked you fourteen times exactly because he believes if he doesn't bad luck will cause an apocalypse," in a monotone.

Ah, that was why these boys were used to his way of speaking. This kid acts like a miniature version of me. How interesting. And, from what this white haired boy tells me, I can assume they blonde's name is Mello. Either that, or 'Mello' was this kid's nickname. L was seventy percent sure 'Mello' was his nickname.

With a push of his arms, L sat up. He heard a few popping sounds, and a couple of snaps. The redhead cringed at these noises, but said nothing. All this kid did was play with something in his hand. A video game system? Most likely. An eighty percent chance, to be exact.

Seemingly bored of the silence, Mello sporadically decided to make conversation. "So,… what're you in for?" L just sat there, contemplating. Finally, after careful consideration on whether or not to respond to that poor excuse for a conversation starter, he replied. "You make this place sound like a prison,… and I believe I am in here for a personality disorder. There are many I could have, so choose your pick."

Silence followed his words. Then the auburn-haired boy started laughing. Wiping a tear from his eye, he informed L, "T'was what they said to me." L turned a stare to the albino; at least he seemed normal enough. (Considering he was in a clinic for the mentally ill.) "Why should I tell you? You're just another of those Dancers," was the only explanation he got.

Ignoring that statement, L got up, his posture still as bad, and maybe a little worse, then ever. "W-Wait! You must stay here, with me! Please? I'm sure my looks and personality should make up for my friends'!" the redhead pleaded, to no avail. His video game forgotten, the boy starred hopefully at his elder's back. But, without looking back at the hopeless quartet, L stood up, walked to the door, and found himself in a strange, new labyrinth of white hallways.

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**D: Enjoy the insanityness.  
**


End file.
